Now I know there's no one I can trust - I used to think there was
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed
Bart blows the air out from his lungs in a swift go between pursed lips. "Thank god, I can only deal with so much fuckin' world altering in one day." Going through sex-ed all over again isn't exactly high on his list. 'Complicated' he can understand - and he waves a hand loosely as he sips at his drink once more, happy to file that conversation for a later date. Not his monkey, not his rodeo. Or, fuck, something. Bart doesn't want to delve into his brother's marriage when the dude isn't even present.
Not that it exempts him from the conversation entirely. In fact Bart's jaw feathers slightly as he grinds his teeth, darker eyes narrowing as they slowly rise to Sunjata. The admission is appreciated in terms of honesty, really, but hearing his brother has been hurt by his husband sparks something dark in his chest after all these years of not having Nate at all. "I'll hold off on layin' ya out until he gets back and tells me whether I can then," he vows, voice a deep rumble that communicates plainly that as much as Bart might respect Sunjata right now, it's nowhere near enough to spare him from getting his ass kicked if Nate gives Bart the go-ahead. Draining his glass to give them both a moment, he clears his throat. "Least I can do is cook for ya till he gets here though. Not lettin' ya use the starvin' orphan card to sway his guilt when he arrives." It's a joke wrapped in truth, which is all Scarface deserves right now.
Grimacing, Bart nods at the man's empathetic response, appreciating it for what it means. The lack of finesse to the reply is perfectly fine by him. "Yeah, far as I can possibly get huh?" Humor creases a wry grin into his face, and he licks the residual alcohol from his lips. "Ya eaten tonight, then?" Feeling antsy and like he needs to get to work. Do something with his hands so he can try to digest this entire shitshow. If not, well, he can always do the tried and true method of staring at the ceiling till his eyes burn.
Not that it exempts him from the conversation entirely. In fact Bart's jaw feathers slightly as he grinds his teeth, darker eyes narrowing as they slowly rise to Sunjata. The admission is appreciated in terms of honesty, really, but hearing his brother has been hurt by his husband sparks something dark in his chest after all these years of not having Nate at all. "I'll hold off on layin' ya out until he gets back and tells me whether I can then," he vows, voice a deep rumble that communicates plainly that as much as Bart might respect Sunjata right now, it's nowhere near enough to spare him from getting his ass kicked if Nate gives Bart the go-ahead. Draining his glass to give them both a moment, he clears his throat. "Least I can do is cook for ya till he gets here though. Not lettin' ya use the starvin' orphan card to sway his guilt when he arrives." It's a joke wrapped in truth, which is all Scarface deserves right now.
Grimacing, Bart nods at the man's empathetic response, appreciating it for what it means. The lack of finesse to the reply is perfectly fine by him. "Yeah, far as I can possibly get huh?" Humor creases a wry grin into his face, and he licks the residual alcohol from his lips. "Ya eaten tonight, then?" Feeling antsy and like he needs to get to work. Do something with his hands so he can try to digest this entire shitshow. If not, well, he can always do the tried and true method of staring at the ceiling till his eyes burn.
Feel the fear and swallow back the tears
let weakness disappear
let weakness disappear
BARTHOLOMEW
